


The Light of the Sun

by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf



Series: Tales of a Dragon and His Prince [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aithusa Deserved Better, Do Not Re-Post To Another Site, Dragon Family, Dragon Merlin (Merlin), Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hatchlings, I Demand More Baby Dragon, I Just Really Love Aithusa Okay?, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/pseuds/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf
Summary: The dragonet tastes her first air.
Relationships: Aithusa & Kilgharrah & Merlin (Merlin)
Series: Tales of a Dragon and His Prince [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737112
Comments: 18
Kudos: 478





	The Light of the Sun

The dragonet tastes her first air.

Cool and dry, it is a sharp change from the warm, drowsing dampness inside the snug little space where she had been curled up for so long, a world of muted colours and sounds and dreams.

Her body hums with energy, compelled to waking by the voice that had filled her sleeping world, and she feels the urge to uncurl her neck, to go towards that mighty, wonderous sound. The hard ridge on her nose chips through the boundaries surrounding her, creating a hole. She wriggles her nose, and it widens.

When she pushes her snout forward into the foreign wonderment of the air, she finds she can open her mouth and inhales a proper breath. Her lungs, running the entire length of her body from her breast all the way down her sides and back to the start of her tail, expand and push against her ribs; the sensation of it, inhaling and exhaling, is almost as exhilarating as the heady dose of oxygen coursing into her blood, adding to her energy.

She draws her head up, and the shell breaks further. Now she can get her head out. Still in the damp closeness of the shell, her limbs stretch and push away from her body as if they all wish to go in different directions. Her forelimbs find the hole made by her head and neck, breaking it open wider as she pushes forward with them. As her ears drain and clear, she can hear a deep, rhythmic whooshing noise, a steady, powerful thumping. Curious, she turns her head.

A vast presence, black and violet and indigo, lays curled around her, filling the air with a rich scent that fills her with the same sense of safety and warmth that her egg had. It is so great she cannot see it all at once, having to assemble it in parts—an endless length of tail, mountainous haunches of muscle and scale, great rushing heartbeat and breathing, long elegant wings, a gracefully arching neck leading up to a horn-crested head and molten gold eyes.

That great, sleek head grows larger as it lowers towards her, the tips of a long, forked tongue flickering feather-light. With the touch comes connection, his mind touching hers. His mental presence is greater than even his physical form, a warm ocean of light and love that is so vast and deep she can never hope to explore all its depths.

_[Aithusa.]_

She is Aithusa. And this great presence, big enough to be a world himself— _[Father!]_

_[Come, Aithusa. You can do it,]_ says Father, and yes, he is the source of the voice that had compelled her to freedom. _[In adversity, the first scale you must bite through is your own. Come on. Your meal is waiting.]_

Meal? Her head turns, nostrils flaring, and a smell of blood reaches her now, coppery and warm and invigorating, and she knows hunger. She stops trying to go in six directions at once, employing all the strength in all her limbs to freeing herself. Grasping the edges of the shell with her foreclaws, she _pushes,_ and it breaks away, rocking her forward so her forelegs are on the ground. Pulling with her claws and pushing with her hindlegs and tail, she frees herself from the egg at last. There is still a slick membrane clinging to her skin, and she twists her neck around to bite at it, peeling it away, drying her scales in open air at last. All that is left is a velvety webbing around her own wings, but instinct and memories-from-those-before tell her to leave it be. It will come away in its own time.

Leaving off her wings, she follows her nose instead. There, just ahead of her, there is the source of that delicious blood-smell: a great furred prey-beast, prong-horned head twisted at an unnatural angle. Its belly is slit open, spilling out entrails and blood to the stony ground beneath it. Twisting her body, she gets all four legs beneath her…wobbles…stands. She makes for the prey-beast and its wonderful smell, stumbling and tripping as she learns what her legs can and cannot do, fouled by the sweeping twitches of her own tail

_[Here.]_ Father breaks open the prey-beast's ribcage with a snapping of bone and sinew, one talon picking through the entrails and pushing two pieces of it towards her. _[Heart and liver are best for you.]_

The blood is still warm beneath her feet, slick and slippery. She takes the strong muscle-flesh in her teeth and twists her neck to tear it free, blood in her mouth, down her throat. The strength it gives her is even greater than her first air, sating her old-new hunger.

_[How strong you are, young one,]_ another voice says, like Father's but not, and the mind that touches hers is old-old, older than Father, older than her egg, cold and hard and sharp and faceted like a glittering stone. Twisting her neck around, she sees the source, a golden presence as large as a mountain and just as ancient. _[And such colouring. You have certainly been hatched beneath a lucky star.]_

_[None of that,]_ Father says in warning. Armoured fans flex out from beneath his crest, rattling softly against his scales before retracting.

The old grandfather rumbles, displeased, but she ignores their thoughts and returns to her meal. Heeding his advice, she eats from the liver in turn, too, the taste different but savory. When the empty ache in her belly is soothed, she returns to the beckoning warmth of Father's belly and licks her claws and toepads clean of blood. _[Rest? Safe?]_ she thinks towards him.

_[Yes, we are safe here.]_ Father unfolds one wing over her, vast as the sky, sails edged in brighter blue and purple and silver. _[Sleep, Aithusa, my little pearl. Sleep and grow and fear not, for you are safe here in the wild and the earth, and we are on guard.]_

A deep rumble begins in Father's throat, a continuous thunder rolling out of him and making her body hum with the vibration of it. She finds the slow-steady rise-fall of it soothing. Her eyes close, and she curls up against him, tucking her snout beneath her encased wings. Above her, Father begins to sing into her mind, the cadence of his tune easing her to sleep.

_[Listen, precious one, for now you shall hear_   
_Of the only seven slayers a dragon must fear._   
_Dignity should you have, but be wary of Pride,_   
_Lest you discount the foe who comes for your hide._   
_To have is nothing, but to keep is all._   
_To aimless Greed, foolish dragons will fall._   
_When enemies come, do not let Wrath steer you through_   
_Anger kills cunning, which you'll need to fight true._   
_Foster Envy for others' power and home_   
_And be blind to dark plots that bring death to your own._   
_Blind Lust for treasure, glory, and mates_   
_Lead reckless dragons to the darkest of fates. **  
**Hunger will come, and all creatures must feed,_   
_But Gluttony makes fat beasts who cannot flee at their need._   
_Be wary that Sloth does not grow from your rest,_   
_Else years of napping allow assassins to your nest._   
_Take heed of this wisdom, O hatchling of mine,_   
_And long years of dragonhood are sure to be thine.]_


End file.
